


The Bolts and the Bees

by SnowyGriffin



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: FWP - fluff without plot, Family Dynamics, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 02:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16108472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowyGriffin/pseuds/SnowyGriffin
Summary: Whether you're a human or a member of a highly advanced automaton race from Cybertron, no one likes having "The Talk" with their parents.





	The Bolts and the Bees

**Author's Note:**

> Because I need more motherly Ratchet in my life. 
> 
> Thanks sooooo much to [the_storm_winds](/users/the_storm_winds) for all your help! You're the best!

 

Bumblebee stormed into the common area. The downward tilt of his doorwings and the general terseness of his field were telltale signs of how bad of a mood he was in. Most of his teammates wisely remained silent as they looked on in concern while he made his way to the Energon dispenser. However, there was one who simply didn’t catch the hint.

“Mornin’ Bee!” Smokescreen greeted from his spot leaning against the nearby wall. “Jeez, you must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the berth, huh?”

The yellow and black mech directed an uncharacteristically heated glare in Smokescreen’s direction, effectively startling the rookie. :: _Shut it, Slag-face._ :: He hissed through a low warble.

Tentatively, Arcee walked over to the seething young mech and placed a gentle touch on his shoulder plate. “Bee...is everything alright? You seem pretty tense,” she commented in concern as she allowed her field to stretch out an inquiring pulse. However, Bumblebee instantly pulled his own field closer to himself and shrugged off the femme’s servo.

:: _I’m fine._ :: He replied in a series of low, muttering beeps.

“Arcee’s right Bee, ya haven’t really seemed yourself lately,” Bulkhead chimed in from his perch on a few large crates near the corner. “Is there somethin’ buggin’ ya?” He asked.

The constant prodding from his friends only proved to further fuel the fire burning within his frame until he finally snapped.

:: _I said I’m FINE! Now will everyone just back off!_ :: He exclaimed in a furious trill before he suddenly turned on his heel to stomp away, his breakfast quickly forgotten in exchange for fleeing the constant bombardment of questions. Unfortunately, before he could completely make it out the door, he instantly came face-to-face with Ratchet’s disapproving frown. Before the yellow muscle car could utter a single beep in protest, the older mech took hold of Bumblebee’s arm and began to drag him off towards his med-bay.

“Alright, young mech.” The medic finally spoke up once the door slid shut behind them. He then released Bumblebee and took a step away before turning to face him, his arms folded across his chassis. “You’re going to tell me what’s going on with you this instant.” His words were definitely that of a command than a request, leaving no room for argument.

The young scout simply glowered down at the ground, refusing to meet Ratchet’s gaze. :: _Do I have a choice?_ :: He asked defiantly

Ratchet simply leveled one of his classic ‘no-nonsense’ glares at the yellow mech. Bumblebee vented out a quiet sigh as he pretty much felt the answer to his snarky remark being bored into his helm.

After a few more moments of resentful silence, Bumblebee finally caved in and raised his gaze to meet Ratchet’s.

:: _...I don’t know, okay? Honestly, I don’t._ :: He added after seeing how the older mech’s gaze hardened skeptically. :: _I’ve...been feeling...weird. It’s hard to describe._ ::

The medic’s posture slackened somewhat, yet his searching gaze remained on Bumblebee’s face. “There’s no harm in trying.”

Bumblebee released a quiet ex-vent before he spoke up again. :: _I...haven’t been recharging well…_ :: At that, Ratchet’s optic ridges rose. :: _I feel so restless; I can hardly power down. And whenever I do, I wake up boiling. I’m so hot, it feels like my armor’s gonna melt off! I get agitated for no real reason...and it gets worse whenever I’m around the others. I tried training to get my processor off of things, but I can’t focus. Sometimes I don’t even feel like refueling. I tried to force myself today, but...ugh!_ :: He grunted in frustration as he kicked the closest object to him, which just so happened to be a box of scrap metal. For once, Ratchet showed no signs of outrage at the mistreatment of his belongings as he intently listened to Bumblebee. :: _I snapped...and I didn’t mean to...I really don’t know what’s going on with me, but everyday, it gets worse...I feel worse…_ ::

Ratchet remained silent for a few kliks as he allowed everything the young mech told him to properly be absorbed by his processor, his optics still studying the other closely. “When did you first start experiencing these symptoms?” He finally asked.

:: _Three days ago_ :: Bumblebee quietly admitted. 

With a long-suffering sigh, Ratchet allowed his arms to fall back to his sides as he deflated, a concerned frown on his face. “Bumblebee...why didn’t you come to me with this sooner?”

Bumblebee gave an unconvincing shrug. :: _We’ve all been pretty busy lately. Especially you, Ratchet. I thought whatever this was would go away on its own...I didn’t want to bother you._ ::

Ratchet slowly shook his helm and allowed a familiar warmth to seep into his field as it spread out towards Bumblebee. It didn’t take long for the young mech to relax and release his own uncertain field as he was embraced by the warm familiar sensation that only a carrier could have.

“Though I may take care of everyone on this team, you’re my sparkling first and my patient second. I don’t _ever_ want you thinking that I’m too busy for you. Understand?” He asked, putting the tiniest bit of edge in his voice to make sure his message came off clear.

Successfully chastised, Bumblebee slowly nodded his helm.

:: _Ratchet...Am I dying…?_ :: He asked with a small hint of fear in his beeps as he raised his wide-opticed gaze to Ratchet’s.

Much to his surprise, the orange and white ambulance let out a sudden snort of amusement from his inquiry.

“No, Bumblebee, you’re not dying,” Ratchet replied after seeing the other mech’s confused frown.

:: _Really? Then...what’s going on with me?_ :: He asked dubiously.

Ratchet gestured towards the berth in the corner of the room. “Sit,” He said simply.

:: _...Why?_ ::

“I don’t need you lashing out again and destroying something I actually need. Now sit.”

::... _Fine..._ :: He huffed childishly as he walked over and took a seat on the edge of the berth.

Ratchet took that moment to turn away and type a few things on the nearby terminal before several new screens popped up, each displaying various parts of a Cybertronian’s anatomy.

“When a mech reaches a certain age, his body is primed as his systems begin to mature,” he started off clinically. “Every Cybertronian who has reached their age of maturity beings getting certain...demands from their systems to seek out a potential mate.” Upon seeing the confused and utterly lost expression on the scout’s face, Ratchet let out a sigh. “Long story short, you’ve hit your first heat cycle.” He concluded.

The information took a short while to digest, and though the lower half of his face was covered, the medic didn’t need their bond to notice the various emotions the scout was experiencing.

:: _So...when you say_ ‘seek out a mate’ _, you mean…_ :: The pieces were slowly connecting in the young mech’s processor, yet he was clearly too hesitant to touch on the topic entirely. Ratchet, on the other hand, held no such inhibition.

“Find someone to interface with,” the medic stated plainly. He nearly chuckled when he saw how Bumblebee’s optics spiraled wide in shock.

:: _Ugh, no!_ :: He exclaimed, wincing as though he was in physical pain.

Ratchet tilted his helm curiously at the reaction. “What? It’s a natural-”

:: _That word…_ :: Bumblebee clarified. :: _I never want to hear you say it again._ ::

“...Interface?” Ratchet repeated dubiously.

:: _Yes, that!_ ::

“You do know that as your medical caretaker I have to discuss these sorts of things,” the older mech deadpanned.

:: _But you’re also my carrier, and I don’t think I can handle hearing this come from you!_ ::

“How else do you think you got here? The Well was long dried up when you came along,” Ratchet stated, matter-of-factly.

:: _Yeah, okay, but-_ ::

“Besides, I was about your age when I first went into my heat cycle. And let me tell you, had I known Orion back then, I’d-”

:: _OKAY! Stop! Please!_ :: Bumblebee interjected with a desperate wave of his servos. :: _If I hear any more of this, I think I might permanently shut down…_ ::

With a soft chuckle, Ratchet shook his helm, deciding to momentarily spare his charge from any further embarrassment.

“In all seriousness, Bumblebee, this matter must be addressed,” Ratchet stated, his expression turning serious. “Ignoring your system’s signals to this degree can develop to be potentially fatal in the long run.”

The yellow scout fell silent as his optics stared at the floor. He never could’ve imagined the true gravity of his own situation. Ratchet could feel the fear, frustration, and shame swirling like a storm within Bumblebee’s field, and with a pang of sympathy, he stretched out his own in a reassuring pulse.

“I know you’re feeling overwhelmed, little one. But this is something all of us had to deal with at some point. And I assure you it’s all perfectly natural.” At Ratchet’s gentle words, Bumblebee tentatively lifted his optics to meet the medic’s gaze. Upon seeing his carrier’s soft smile, he felt his worries melt away. Yet, that still left a lingering question.

:: _So...what do I do?_ :: He asked with a curious tilt of his helm.

“Well,” Ratchet began, “As I said, there’s always-” Bumblebee’s hasty shake of his helm was enough of a hint for the medic to move on to the next option. “In this case, I can manually pause it until its next rotation,” he continued. “But, seeing how you’re still young, your first few heat cycles will be….sporadic, to put it simply. Soon enough, you’ll be able to pick up on it before it officially hits. However, if you do choose to coast it out, you absolutely _must_ let me know. It won’t be as risky so long as I observe your symptoms. Okay?” He asked as he glanced at his sparkling. It was a relief to see just how much Bumblebee had calmed since he first came in. Slowly, the mech nodded in understanding.

“Good. The last thing I want is for you to do something you’re not yet comfortable wi-...oof!” A quiet grunt of surprise escaped from him when Bumblebee suddenly shot up from where he sat to embrace Ratchet. Though initially taken off guard, the medic didn’t hesitate to return the gesture as he soothingly stroked the back of his young charge’s helm while his field curled affectionately around him.

:: _Thank you…_ :: Bumblebee murmured as he rested his head against Ratchet’s chassis.

Ratchet pressed a loving kiss to the scout’s forehelm. “No need to thank me,” He replied with a small smile. After a moment, however, his smile twitched up into a smirk. “Just wait till Optimus hears his little bitlet is all grown up.”

Bumblebee groaned in dismay as he took a step back. :: _Ugh, please don’t…_ :: Ratchet couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“Why not? He’s going to want to give you his version of the talk too, you know.”

:: _Still! I-_ :: The scout’s whine was cut short when the med-bay’s doors suddenly slid open, revealing a familiar blue and red mech.

“Optimus! We were just talking about you. You’ll never guess what happened with Bumblebee...”

With an exasperated warble, Bumblebee hid his face in his servos, nearly wishing he could just offline then and there.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed your daily dose of vitamin fluff <3


End file.
